


Week Four - Secrets

by Trojie



Series: Trojie's Pornathon 2017 [4]
Category: RocknRolla (2008)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Unrequited Lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 23:09:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11861556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trojie/pseuds/Trojie
Summary: One Two can never know what Bob thinks of when they have to sleep this close together.





	Week Four - Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> For Pornalot! I'm sorry this one is so bitter, guys.

You don't tell each other everything, now do you?

Lying in the dark three fuckin' feet away from him, and you nearly got your bloody head shot off today, Bob, except he fronted for you, he pushed back, he put his balls on the line for you and your big stupid mouth didn't get you killed today, because One Two was there, lookin' out for you. 

And now you can't keep your fuckin' hand off your cock for thinkin' about it, on Mumbles' mum's living room floor. You're a dirty fucker, and he's your best friend, your best fuckin' friend in the world. You want him, and you can't have him, and you'll never tell him. 

Go on then, rub one out. Get it over with, because you're not gonna stop and you're not gonna sleep til you get it over with, are you. 

Bob buries his hand in his pants and grits his teeth and imagines it's someone else's. 

Next to him, One Two murmurs in his sleep and rolls over heavily. This close, Bob can feel the heat radiating off his bare back. 

Fuck, what it'd be like to reach out and touch. To snug in closer. To bite a little at that stretch of neck, nose against the soft buzz of One Two's haircut, fuck his dick against the gym-honed cut of One Two's back, his tight, pretty arse. Spends too much time on the treadmill, that vain fucker, even though he claims it's habit from when he was inside, it's training for all those half marathons he always says he's gonna sign up for. Bob calls him out on it, in cahoots with Mumbles, every time it comes up, and yet. 

And yet he still rubs one out on the regular to the thought of that arse, those muscles, that body, that fuckin' body he sees too much of because One Two doesn't know he should be hiding it away from Bob's eyes. 

He's slick now, messing himself up, he wants so fucking badly to say fuck it all and have One Two find out like this, like in some bloody parallel universe the revelation that his best mate wants to do him up the arse would be a piece of information he'd welcome. 

They don't live in that parallel universe. Bob comes in his hand biting his lip til it bleeds to keep the noises in, licks his hand clean because he don't dare make a fuckin' mess on Mrs Mumbles' floor or her spare blankets or in his own pants, and shudders for it, eyes closed in the darkness thinkin' what it'd be like if it was One Two's mouth around his fingers, One Two's teeth set in the pad of his thumb. 

He tucks himself away, a little shiver at the touch, too soon, too sensitive, but he's never gonna know.


End file.
